Thewhyof
suffering, has ever been among the most serious problems of life. When Jesus
showed sympathy with a man who had been born blind, His disciples started the
question, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man, or his parents, that he should be born
blind?" They were quite sure that somebody hadsinned,
and that this blindness was theresult.
That was the common belief of those days. It was thought that anyone who
suffered in misfortune or was overtaken by calamity, had sinned, and that his
misfortune or calamity was visited on him because of his sin.

The old
question,why the godly suffer and
the wicked escape suffering—is to many a perplexing question. Only the other
day a brilliant literary woman who has fallen into misfortune, wrote, "A
depression blacker than you can conceive is now upon me. I know I never can
write again. And both my sister and I are penniless—worse, in debt. I write this
to ask you, in view of this irremediable disaster, what you think of God." This
pitiful cry is from one half-crazed by misfortune—but there are many others who,
more sanely than this poor woman, persist in asking the question, in time of
great trouble, "What do you think now of God?"

A
sorrowing father, after watching by the dying bed of a beloved child, said, "Had
it been in my power to bear her pain for her, how gladly would I have done it!Icould
not bear to see her suffer; how is it thatGod
could?" The problem of thewhyof
suffering, presses on every life, on every heart, in some way, at some time.

We
remember that even Jesus, in one terrible hour on the cross, asked, "Why have
You forsaken Me?" in the awful mystery of His own suffering. Faith did not lose
its hold, however, for it was still, "My God, my God," even when the bitter cry
was, "Why—why have you forsaken me?"

There is
no one of us who may not some time cry out in the darkness, asking, "Whythis
pain, this suffering, this mystery of trouble?" It is a relief for us to know
that the gospel has its answers for the question. Jesus gave an answer to His
disciples that day on the street.

First, He
told them plainly that their beliefs were not true. He said, "Neither did this
man sin, nor his parents." He did not mean that the man and his parents were
sinless. He meant that the misfortune of blindness had not been brought on him
by sin. Nor did He mean that sickness, blindness, and other diseases and
calamities are never due to sin. Many times they are. Sin does, indeed, bring
curse and calamity to many lives. But Jesus here guards His disciples against
supposing that always, that as a rule—suffering comes from sin. It is a
fearful mistake to say to everyone who has trouble—that he has committed some
sin and that his trouble is in punishment for it. Nor should a godly man say,
when he is visited byaffliction,
"I wonder what I have done—that God is punishingme
so."

Jesus did
not merely say that the old belief that sin was the cause of all suffering was
untrue; He gave a wonderful solution of themystery
of trouble. He said that the blindness had come upon this man, "that the
works of God should be made manifest in him." We are not to speculate and guess
about the cause of any man's trouble, wondering whose fault it was—but are to
set about at once doing all we can to relieve his suffering or heal his hurt.
This man's misfortune became an occasion to Jesus for amiracle
of mercy. If it had not been for his blindness, this opportunity of
manifesting this work of God, would have been missed. Every time we come upon a
human need, suffering or sorrow in any form, there is an opportunity for us to
manifest the works of God by showing kindness, by giving comfort, by helping in
whatever way it may be in our power to help. If one is sick in your home or
among your neighbors, it is a divine call to you to do the gentle offices of
love, to minister in self-denying ways, to do the work of God beside the
sick-bed. That is why the suffering is permitted.

It may be
the divine purpose—thatwe
ourselves shall bebenefitedby
our trouble. No human life ever reaches its best possibilities without pain
and cost. One tells of visiting a pottery shop, and seeing a vessel whose
pattern was blurred and marred, the design not brought out clearly. He asked why
it was, and was told that it had not beenburned
enough. It would have been well worth while for the vessel to have had
hotter fires and to have stayed longer in the furnace—in order to have the
pattern wrought out in greater clearness and distinctness. May it not be that
many of us miss much of the finer possibilities of spiritual attainment, because
we are not willing to suffer?

Sometimes
we are called to sufferfor the
sake of others—that they may be made better. The highest honor God gives to
anyone in this world—is to be a helper of one's fellows. There are those whose
lives shine as bright lights among men. They are usually quiet people, not much
heard of on the streets. But they carry themarks
of Jesuson their faces, in their
characters and dispositions, and they areunselfish
helpers of others. The weary come to them, and the sorrowing, the tired, and
the hungry-hearted. They seem to be set apart by a holy separation, as helpers
and comforters of others, as burden-bearers, as counselors and friends of those
who need such aid.

Who does
not crave to hold such a place of usefulness, of influence, among men? But are
we willing to pay the price? No life can become strong, quiet, helpful, a rock
in a weary land, a shelter from the storm, a shadow from the heat, without the
experience of suffering. We must learn the lesson of beautiful life—in the
school of self-denial—the school of the cross.

One
writes of a poet whose pen was facile, who wrote many brilliant lines. The world
listened and was charmed—but not helped, not inspired to better things. The
poet's child died, and then he dipped his pen in his heart's bloodand
wrote—and then the world paused and listened and was blessed and quickened to
more beautiful life.

Before we
can do anything that is really worth while in helping our fellow men, we must
pass through a training of suffering, in which alone we can learn the lessons
that will fit us for this holier service.

Another
mission of suffering is for thehonor
of God. Satan said Job's piety was interested piety. "Does Job fear God for
nothing? Have You not made a hedge about him. You have blessed the work of his
hands. But put forth Your hand now and touch all that he has—and he will
renounce You to Your face." Job was left in the hands of the Adversary to
disprove this charge. His sufferings were notbecause
of sins—but that thereality
of his religionmight be proved.

When we
are called to suffer, it may be as awitness
for God. We do not know what may depend upon our faithfulness in any time of
stress or trial. It may seem a small thing, for instance, to complain and fret
when we are suffering, and yet it may sadly blur our witnessing. God wants us to
represent Him, to illustrate the qualities in His character which He would have
the world know. A Christian in a sick room, is called to manifestthe
beauty of His Master in patience, in trust, in sweetness of spirit. A Christian
in great sorrow, is called to show the world the meaning of faith and faith's
power to hold the heart quiet and at peace, in the bitterest experience of grief
and loss. We are witnesses for God in our sufferings, and, if we would not fail
Him—we must show in ourselves the power of divine grace to keep the song singing
in our hearts through pain or sorrow.

There
never can be anygainin
asking "Why?" when we find ourselves in trouble.God
has His reasons, and it is enough that He should know why He sends this or
that trial into our life or our friend's life. There is always mystery. The
perplexed and heartbreaking "Why?" is heard continually, wherever we go. We
cannot answer it. It is not meant that we should try to answer it. The "Why?"
belongs to our Father. He knows; let Him answer and let us trust and be still.
God is love. He makes no mistakes.